


Star-crossed

by Rycolfan (Snarryeyes)



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Whose Line
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:56:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarryeyes/pseuds/Rycolfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale of love and friendship over many years, told one evening in the Whose Live tour bus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Star-crossed

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction. No offense is intended to those portrayed herein.
> 
> Written in early 2011.

Ryan sat quietly and stared at his drink, letting the hum of mindless conversation flow over him. Greg, Jeff, and Chip were sat around him and talking about the show they’d just finished, not fifteen minutes earlier, but Ryan found that he had neither the energy nor the inclination to join in. It had been pretty much the same as every other show.

His gaze locked on a small drop of condensation and followed its agonizingly slow progress down the outside of the bottle he was lightly gripping. As it finally reached the polished wooden surface of the table, a particular name broke through his reverie and he looked up curiously, only catching the tail end of the sentence.

“What was that?” he asked, speaking for the first time in several minutes.

Jeff stopped talking to look at him with a confused expression. “What was what?”

Greg cut in with a smirk before Ryan had a chance to reply. “I believe that Ryan’s sudden interest has something to do with your mention of Colin’s impromptu appearance with us last year.” He looked across the table at Ryan, taking another swig of beer. “Isn’t that right, Ry? At least now we know how to get your attention in future.”

Ryan nonchalantly flipped him a finger and drew a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, as Chip and Jeff exchanged a look. Jeff cleared his throat and leaned forward, the alcohol giving him the courage to broach a subject which had been sparking his curiosity for years. 

“Seriously Ryan, what exactly is there between you and Colin?”

Ryan glanced up, caught off-guard by the directness of the question, and Jeff shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking as though he was expecting to be hit any second. His relief was obvious when Ryan relaxed his posture and looked away, fishing a cigarette out of the slightly crumpled box.

“That’s a question with a complicated answer.”

“We have all night, man,” Greg said cheerfully, settling back in his seat.

“And plenty of booze,” Chip added, raising his bottle in a mock toast.

“And we’ll take whatever you tell us to the grave,” Jeff finished, hoping to finally get to the truth behind the many rumours and stories.

Ryan lit his cigarette and sat back in his chair, studying the slowly burning tip contemplatively for a moment before starting to speak.

“I met Colin in Vancouver, over twenty years ago. It’s difficult to explain, but meeting him was like finding a part of myself that I didn’t know was missing. He and I just…fit. I’d been doing stand-up for a while at that point but I never felt quite at home with it, without knowing why. When Colin introduced me to improv, it was like coming home. Maybe I would have eventually found my way to it anyway; who knows? But the bottom line is I fell in love with improv because Colin made it shine…”

 

 

_Ryan watched the three performers rehearse on stage with a mixture of awe and envy, but his gaze kept being drawn back to one of them in particular. The gentle, quiet, man he’d been introduced to a little earlier had transformed almost beyond recognition the moment they’d started to improvise the scene. He was suddenly much more confident, effortlessly handling whatever the others threw at him with some completely off-the-wall humour that had Ryan laughing along with everyone else._

_When they had finished the scene, to scattered applause, Colin walked over to where he was sitting and offered his hand with a warm smile. “Come on; it’s your turn.”_

_Ryan returned the smile, and grasped Colin’s hand without hesitation._

 

 

“So I gave up stand-up and started doing improv full-time with Colin in Vancouver. We’d only just met, but it felt like we’d known each other for years; we were completely in tune on stage and off, and we quickly became almost inseparable. A year later I got offered a place in Toronto’s Second City, but that meant leaving Colin behind…”

 

_“It’s not right,” Ryan said, shaking his head with a troubled expression. “You should be coming with me; you deserve it just as much.”_

_Colin smiled slightly and half-shrugged as he leant against the doorframe casually, watching Ryan attempt to pack the last of his belongings into a suitcase which was already full. “There’s always next time. Just go and show them what you’re made of.”_

_Ryan stopped what he was doing and straightened up, looking less than convinced. “Maybe I should wait.”_

_Colin rolled his eyes, clearly having had this conversation many times already, and went over to playfully punch his friend on the arm. “No. This is your big break, Ry; you have to go.”_

_“But it won’t be the same.”_

_“Go,” Colin repeated, his tone gentle but firm._

_“I might not be any good without you…”_

_His words were cut off as Colin grabbed the back of his head and yanked it forwards to meet his lips in a forceful kiss. Ryan was shocked to find himself surrendering to it instantly, his feelings of doubt and uncertainty replaced by something infinitely warmer and stronger. He felt a strange sense of loss when the kiss ended as abruptly as it had begun._

_Colin rested his forehead against Ryan’s and closed his eyes, his soft voice filled with determination. “Go.”_

 

“So I did,” Ryan said simply, taking a long drag from his cigarette and idly flicking the ash into a cheap, plastic, ashtray which sat in the centre of the table. “Despite my fears, I settled in straight away and it was better than I could ever have imagined. Sure, I missed Colin, but I called as often as I could and he seemed genuinely happy for me. A few months later a slot opened up for him as well, and everything was perfect. Neither of us mentioned the kiss. I put it down to the emotion of the moment, and didn’t really think about it again…well, not for a few years anyway.

“We were separated again when I went to England for Whose Line, but I fought my hardest to get him on the show with me. He’s always thought that he owes me for that but, to be honest, there was a substantial element of selfishness in my actions. I’m a good improviser without him, but with him I’m great…and that was obvious to everyone around us.

“By that point we were both married. I’d put off asking Pat to marry me for several years, despite her frequent hints; there was a niggling doubt at the back of my mind which was hard to place, and even harder to shake off. Then Colin married Deb, and I gave up over-thinking it and married Pat too.” There was a little defiance in his voice as he added, “I did love her, and I still do.”

“Anyway, when Col and I were in England together, away from our wives, it was just like it used to be…fun, easy, free. Looking back now, it was only a matter of time before something happened between us. Our frequent nights out, which we’d stagger drunkenly back to the hotel from, only served to help things along…”

 

_“I don’t think you can unlock the door with your tie, Ryan,” Colin sniggered from where he was slumped heavily against the adjacent wall, his feet having given up cooperating some time ago._

_Ryan frowned at him groggily, then looked back down at his hands and grinned. “Hey, if MacGyver can do it…”_

_“Uh-huh.”_

_Ryan pulled his tie free from the door and patted his pants pocket for the key, glancing back to the gently swaying form of his friend. “Why are you outside my room, anyway?”_

_Colin shrugged, almost losing his balance with the gesture. “I dunno…I was just following you, and I can’t remember where mine is.”_

_“Aha!” Ryan pulled a key out of his pocket and waved it victoriously. His dramatic moment was ruined somewhat when a door opened across the hall, and a old woman in a dressing gown glared daggers at both of them. Ryan merrily waved the key in her direction. “S’okay…found it.” He heard a thump behind him and turned to see that Colin had slid down the wall into a heap. The woman tutted loudly and retreated back into her room as Ryan unlocked the door and went to help Colin up, trying to suppress a fit of the giggles._

_“Come on, buddy. Up you get.”_

_“The floor won’t stay still,” Colin mumbled, grabbing hold of Ryan’s arms._

_After several failed attempts, and a lot of stifled giggling, Ryan finally managed to guide Colin inside and close the door behind them. A split second later, Colin’s legs buckled and they both ended up in an undignified tangle of limbs on the floor with a renewed fit of the giggles._

_“I guess we’re sleeping here,” Colin grinned, trying to regain his breath…which was proving difficult with Ryan sprawled on top of him._

_Ryan looked down at the flushed face of his best friend and found his gaze drawn to the inviting pink lips so close to his, an intense look creeping onto his face as his laughter quickly faded. His eyes flicked up to meet Colin’s and he was shocked to see the same hunger in them, the dilated pupils swallowing nearly all of the warm brown around them, pulling him in. He had no idea who made the first move, but suddenly they were kissing, and it was nothing like the brief, emotional, kiss they’d shared way back in his cramped Vancouver apartment. This was fuelled by pure, unadulterated, desire, and Ryan shut everything else out, wanting, for one night, to just feel without thought or conscience._

 

“Man, I knew it,” Greg cut in, reaching for another bottle to replace his empty one. “That was the night of Dan’s party, wasn’t it?” 

Ryan nodded without looking at him, stubbing his cigarette out. 

“Hey, we’ve all done it at some point,” Jeff said bracingly, ignoring Greg’s quirked eyebrow in his direction. “It’s practically inevitable when you’re away from home for a long time.”

“What happened after that?” Chip asked curiously, his drink sitting forgotten as he listened to Ryan attentively.

Ryan shrugged. “We agreed that it was a drunken mistake and tried to move on. Unfortunately it wasn’t that easy. No matter how hard we tried to fight it, whenever we saw each other again it always ended the same way…waking up together in yet another hotel room.”

“But something changed,” Jeff said shrewdly.

“Yeah,” Ryan sighed, the memory of the last time he saw Colin all too vivid. “Last year, when he joined us for that one show in Vancouver, we ended up in a fight…”

 

_Ryan lay in bed, staring up at the hotel room ceiling as the sky brightened outside, having been unable to get more than a few hours sleep. He could hear Colin breathing softly beside him, feel his warm body pressed up against him, but that brought little comfort in his turbulent state of mind. Regardless of what he told himself, he was still cheating on his wife--they both were--and each time it got a little more difficult to excuse._

_“Ry?” a sleepy voice murmured beside him. “Everything okay?”_

_Ryan snorted mirthlessly. “No. Everything’s pretty fucked up actually.”_

_Colin ran a hand over his face and sat up, expelling a deep breath. “I assume you’re not talking about the tour.”_

_Ryan shifted into a sitting position and turned to face him, his face devoid of any of its usual amusement. “Seriously, Col; what the hell are we doing here?”_

_“I don’t know,” Colin admitted softly. “This is just who we are.”_

_“Yeah,” Ryan scoffed. “Middle-aged, married, men who get together to fuck every now and again.”_

_Hurt flashed across Colin’s face, but Ryan was too lost in a haze of guilt and self-loathing to see it. “That’s really all you think this is?”_

_“You think differently?” Ryan asked, a malicious edge to his tone. “As far as I can see, the only thing missing from our encounters is the money left by the bed in the morning.”_

_Colin looked like he’d been slapped, but his shock quickly transformed to cold fury. “Fuck you.” He flung the covers back and began pulling on his clothes, but Ryan wasn’t done yet. It was as if he’d opened a dam somewhere deep inside himself, releasing every negative thought and feeling, and it felt too good to stop. He got up and grabbed Colin’s arm before he could get to the door._

_“What’s the matter, Col? Truth hurts?”_

_“Get the fuck off me,” Colin said, his voice low and deadly quiet._

_“Why? You got someone else waiting?”_

_That proved to be the final straw for Colin. He spun around and wrestled Ryan to the ground, hitting and punching any part of him that he could reach. Ryan fought to restrain him, and they rolled around on the floor for several minutes until they barely had enough energy to continue. Colin beat his fists hopelessly against Ryan’s chest, angry tears swimming in his eyes, but, instead of pushing him away, Ryan pulled him close, hugging him so tightly it was as if he never wanted to let him go again._

_“I’m sorry. Christ, I’m so sorry, Col. You know I didn't mean any of that.” He pressed his face into Colin’s neck, closing his eyes in relief as he felt Colin sag against him and hug him back just as tightly. “This fucking guilt is making me crazy.”_

_“Maybe it’s time we said goodbye,” Colin said quietly, and Ryan felt a flash of pain as the words hit home. He opened his eyes and shifted position to meet Colin’s pained gaze, lifting a hand to cradle his jaw._

_“No. We’ll figure something out, okay?”_

_He knew it was an empty promise, and he could see that same knowledge in the brown eyes locked with his, but he couldn’t contemplate the alternative. When Colin opened his mouth to reply, Ryan cut him off, pulling him into a kiss which was both desperate and beautifully tender, as the sun’s first rays illuminated the room._

 

Ryan stopped speaking and turned to look out of the window into the darkness, allowing himself to remember every detail of that last kiss. Greg, Chip, and Jeff were still watching him, uncharacteristically quiet. 

“You haven’t seen him since?” Chip asked finally, when the silence had stretched for several minutes.

Ryan’s glazed eyes didn’t move from the window as he replied quietly. “No, and I don’t know when, or if, I will.” He seemed to come back to himself then, and turned, grabbing his half-empty bottle. “So there you have it; my fucked up life. Cheers.”

Greg shook his head slowly. “It’s a fucking Shakespearean tragedy, man.”

Ryan swallowed his mouthful and set the bottle back down firmly, a mirthless smile twisting his lips. “Except the final act hasn't been written yet." He got to his feet, and grabbed his pack of cigarettes from the table. "So, for now, storytime's over." 

With that he walked away from them, wanting nothing more than to lie down on his bed, close his eyes, and try to forget...if only for a little while.


End file.
